Not sure if I should post this in offtopic or here, considering it kinda does stem from being unloved and having negative experiences. At the same time, I’m unsure if this experience has much to do with inceldom.
Since I can remember, while I did have some fond memories, it’s often overshadowed by the unpleasant ones. Where I was pretty much abused and gaslit by my grandfather, my aunt, and other members of my family, and antagonized by my older brothers and younger foid cousins, and get in trouble for reacting the only way I knew how. The cycle never ends. When I at some point unintentionally got CPS involved with complaining about how my ass was stop ll hurting from one of my grandfather’s beating where it hurt to sit down, my mom threatened to kill me if he got arrested. My family also pretty much turned on me not entirely, but yeah. It’s been like that for years until I grew up. As of now, I’d be getting flashbacks after flashbacks of conflicts with them and having to face them over and over again. They don’t see it as abuse, they thought I deserved it. Sometimes I did (I’ll admit, I was a piece of shit as a kid), but for things I didn’t do, this was something I can never get over.
“YOU MAD? GOOD. BE MAD AT YOURSELF!”
“YOU GONNA ACT LIKE A BITCH, YOU GONNA GET TREATED LIKE A BITCH!” (I complained about being treated like someone’s bitch)
Being called an asshole, dickhead, and other crap.
All those words keep echoing in my head, and with all that, I’m just getting so angry I just feel like murdering someone, but no… there’s no point to that. All it would do is land me in jail, and my family would hate me even more, as well as the extended family members, and I’ll be an even bigger target. But I’m stuck with my mother now and I’m unsure how I’ll get out of this situation. I feel so broken, that even if I find someone, I’ll just fuck everything up with my bottled up anger.
But as the days go by, I notice I’m just becoming even darker, just becoming the monster they made me out to be. I won’t use violence as there’s no point, and I don’t want to get my hands dirty. But I will be inclined to burn bridges if I’m pushed far enough.
In my apartment smoking is forbidden, and for months I’ve been contemplating taking pictures of the ash trays, and them smoking as evidence. After they’ve received a warning from the landlord after they’ve had an inspection and the people saw an ashtray they forgot to hide and went batshit insane and lied about it, I began committing to it. I began capturing the evidence and hiding it in my hidden album and just stockpile whenever the opportunity arises.
I know this is probably not right and I’m being too vindictive. But I blame them. I blame my family for the trauma they’ve caused me. They contribute to my obsession with ctb. So, when the time comes, when I’m free from their grasp, they better hope and pray I won’t be as merciless as I’m feeling right now. Because by they won’t see it coming.
Since I can remember, while I did have some fond memories, it’s often overshadowed by the unpleasant ones. Where I was pretty much abused and gaslit by my grandfather, my aunt, and other members of my family, and antagonized by my older brothers and younger foid cousins, and get in trouble for reacting the only way I knew how. The cycle never ends. When I at some point unintentionally got CPS involved with complaining about how my ass was stop ll hurting from one of my grandfather’s beating where it hurt to sit down, my mom threatened to kill me if he got arrested. My family also pretty much turned on me not entirely, but yeah. It’s been like that for years until I grew up. As of now, I’d be getting flashbacks after flashbacks of conflicts with them and having to face them over and over again. They don’t see it as abuse, they thought I deserved it. Sometimes I did (I’ll admit, I was a piece of shit as a kid), but for things I didn’t do, this was something I can never get over.
“YOU MAD? GOOD. BE MAD AT YOURSELF!”
“YOU GONNA ACT LIKE A BITCH, YOU GONNA GET TREATED LIKE A BITCH!” (I complained about being treated like someone’s bitch)
Being called an asshole, dickhead, and other crap.
All those words keep echoing in my head, and with all that, I’m just getting so angry I just feel like murdering someone, but no… there’s no point to that. All it would do is land me in jail, and my family would hate me even more, as well as the extended family members, and I’ll be an even bigger target. But I’m stuck with my mother now and I’m unsure how I’ll get out of this situation. I feel so broken, that even if I find someone, I’ll just fuck everything up with my bottled up anger.
But as the days go by, I notice I’m just becoming even darker, just becoming the monster they made me out to be. I won’t use violence as there’s no point, and I don’t want to get my hands dirty. But I will be inclined to burn bridges if I’m pushed far enough.
In my apartment smoking is forbidden, and for months I’ve been contemplating taking pictures of the ash trays, and them smoking as evidence. After they’ve received a warning from the landlord after they’ve had an inspection and the people saw an ashtray they forgot to hide and went batshit insane and lied about it, I began committing to it. I began capturing the evidence and hiding it in my hidden album and just stockpile whenever the opportunity arises.
I know this is probably not right and I’m being too vindictive. But I blame them. I blame my family for the trauma they’ve caused me. They contribute to my obsession with ctb. So, when the time comes, when I’m free from their grasp, they better hope and pray I won’t be as merciless as I’m feeling right now. Because by they won’t see it coming.
